


A Charge

by soubriquet



Series: What I Gave [7]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Coma, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:13:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soubriquet/pseuds/soubriquet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>charge | ch ärj|<br/>verb [ trans. ] the responsibility of taking care or control of someone or something</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Charge

Blink. Eyes open and you're back, but you're not back anywhere you know. The walls and notices of the hospital have become as familiar to you in waking as your old house, but they're still not enough to remember by in the moment you wake. Still half-asleep.

You stretch your legs forward, one at a time. Roll your head to the right to sort out a cramp that's been developing in your neck for the past four days. You slept over with him again. It's getting too much. It's getting a little odd, that's what they say, but you disagree. You'd lose your job before you got a case that took you away from here, or they gave you a partner while the one you used to have was still breathing, right here. At least when you fall asleep when you bring him your company, you're also in his. Like you're almost together.

"It's Sunday," you say, quietly, "Hey, partner, football's on. You think the Bears'll win this season?"

Unlikely, but you'll still hope for them. The same way you pretend you're not hoping for him. There's no hope; David requires no hope. He's not gone, he just needs to get a little better. Why would you still be here, if he needed to go, after all, huh?

His heart skips a beat on the monitor and yours dies silently within you. Your whole time skids, slows, until the next breath a second later when it carries on again. "Thought of something there?" you ask him, when your body allows you to breathe again, "Something good? You having a dream?"

They say equally that coma patients are aware and aren't aware of what's going on around them while they're sleeping. You suspect that it's more of the latter, but you might as well talk. Maybe he's listening. (Maybe he'll _wake up._ ) 

You check your watch. Five-thirty pm. You've overstayed your hour's welcome, but it doesn't matter too much. You're such a frequent face around here that patients have started taking you for a doctor, not wondering why you always come alone, maybe with a gift, something nice. "I gotta go, part'. Chief's getting all antsy." You don't know for sure why, just yet, but you can guess. You can guess damn well. "See you tomorrow."

The fresh flowers you leave in the vase at the side of his bed, the old wilting ones go with you.


End file.
